


Red Flagged (Or, Five Times Cecil Saved Carlos from Almost Certain Death, and One Time Carlos Returned the Favor)

by niesbixby



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: 5+1 Things, Based on a Tumblr Post, Big Rico's Pizza, Carlos Adapts to Night Vale, Carlos is a Dork, Carlos just doesn't get how Night Vale works, Cecil has issues, Cecil is a Dork, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Night Vale Dog Park, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Re-Education, Slight Canon Divergence, bit of swearing, but not really, it's a lot darker than planned, more like Canon Complementary, pre slash, so many issues, sort of fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niesbixby/pseuds/niesbixby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does what it says on the tin. If this is terrible, I am not responsible. If it is okay, then yeah. I take full responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Flagged (Or, Five Times Cecil Saved Carlos from Almost Certain Death, and One Time Carlos Returned the Favor)

**Author's Note:**

> I am such a giant dork.This thing just started off from this post
> 
> http://rabbitsarenotastheyseem.tumblr.com/post/109162992328/brainbloops-i-have-no-idea-where-i-got-the
> 
> and it just kind of 
> 
> kept
> 
> going.
> 
> And it just kept getting darker and darker because I was re-listening to one of the earlier episodes and Cecil was all like, "Oh, I hope I don't have to go in for re-education again..." and I just sort of wondered what re-education was like, and my friend and I talked about it a bit and it just kind of happened like this. Because I am a mean, mean, person who enjoys tormenting poor innocent characters.

Beginning Notes:

I am such a giant dork.This thing just started off from this post

http://rabbitsarenotastheyseem.tumblr.com/post/109162992328/brainbloops-i-have-no-idea-where-i-got-the

and it just kind of 

kept

going.

And it just kept getting darker and darker because I was re-listening to one of the earlier episodes and Cecil was all like, "Oh, I hope I don't have to go in for re-education again..." and I just sort of wondered what re-education was like, and my friend and I talked about it a bit and it just kind of happened like this. Because I am a mean, mean, person who enjoys tormenting poor innocent characters.

End Notes:

I am sorry. Please do not kill me.

Text:

5.

It was a wonderfully sunny day, Carlos mused. Conditions would be perfect to observe clouds later, if he got the chance. Cecil had insisted they go for a walk, for whatever reason. Carlos still couldn't fathom why Cecil had wanted to go out. He'd been in the middle of a very interesting scientific experiment when the radio host had shown up at the laboratory, insisting he get outside at least once today.

And now they were strolling down the street, just outside City Hall.

Seriously. What the hell?

Honestly, what was with Cecil's fixation on him? When he'd first arrived in Night Vale and first heard his radio show, he wasn't sure if Cecil was mocking him or making a very poor attempt at flirting. And things were only intensifying. Now he was hearing his coworkers talking about it and, horrors, making bets on how long it would be until the two of them got together.

And since Cecil insisted on calling him Perfect Carlos on the air, he'd taken to referring to the radio host as Cecil Charmer.

Which no doubt would lead to a lot of speculation, but damned if he was going to admit he found Cecil attractive. That, he supposed, was why he'd actually agreed to go on the walk instead of just laughing Cecil out of the laboratory. And now he was on a walk.

Cecil had paused a moment to look at some of the frankly odd flowers in Leann Hart's front yard, so Carlos walked on a few steps ahead. A moment later, he noticed a colorful wrapper marked with a red flag lying on the pavement.

Huh. That was odd. Citizens of the little town tended to be very environmentally conscious, he'd found. He'd even heard people saying something like, "Trees. They are us." Which might be taking the whole conservation thing a little far, but hey. Whatever worked. Carlos walked over to the litter, studying it for a moment, then bent over to pick it up.

A voice shouted, "Don't touch that!" and then someone barreled into him, knocking him over and away from the apparently dangerous litter. Arms wrapped around his waist and head. Carlos landed on his back with a grunt, the person laying on top of him.

The second after he landed, Carlos knew exactly who was on top of him because Cecil had somehow extracted his arms and was now babbling frantically at him. "Oh, my god, Carlos, are you all right? Did you hit your head? Do you know who you are? What's the date?" His blond hair was falling in his face and he looked almost panicked and dam it, this really shouldn't be this cute. Carlos didn't even know how Cecil had managed to bowl him over like that, given that the radio host weighed next to nothing, from what he could tell.

Carlos cut him off midstream before he could go into hysterics. "Cecil," he said. "I'm fine. Now, what the hell was that about?"

Cecil sat back on his knees and studied him. "Don't touch the trash with red flags."

4.

"What," Carlos said, opening his door to find Cecil standing on his front porch, "are you doing?"

"You haven't been to Big Rico's this week, have you?"

"No," Carlos answered carefully. "Are you aware that it's 10 o'clock at night? And how do you know where I live?"

Cecil held up a phone book wordlessly, which for some reason appeared to be dripping chicken broth. Carlos decided not to ask. "That's not the point," he said. "We need to go right now. Put on a shirt."

"Why?"

"I'm hungry, are you hungry?" The radio host grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him out of his house, ignoring his protests and kicking the door shut with a bang.

Carlos stared across the booth at Cecil, who was happily tucking into a slice of pizza. "What are we doing?" he asked, more than a little irritated. 

Cecil leaned across the table, looking intensely into his eyes and said in a hissing whisper, "City Council mandates that all citizens eat at Big Rico's once a week."

"Okay, again, why?"

In exactly the same tone of voice, he said, "Nobody knows. I could get summoned for re-education just for telling you this." Cecil shrugged. "But hey. As many times as I've done it, you kind of get used to the pain."

Carlos's eyes widened. "Re-education is...painful?"

Cecil noted the look on his face and waved a hand dismissively, quirking his lips in a rough approximation of a smile. "Nah, it's not like it's even that bad."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to get sent in for something no one told you about, would I?" Cecil's smile warmed and he tapped the table absently with one finger. "That's just not the kind of person I want to be."

3.

"A lot of weird stuff happens in this town, did you know that?" 

Cecil quirked an eyebrow. "Weird? I don't know about that. We're a pretty ordinary little town, except for the occasional rain of dead animals."

Carlos tilted his head. "That's not really ordinary." 

"Isn't it?"

"Well, no."

"Huh." Cecil paused, clearly deep in thought. "Can you give me some more examples?"

"That pyramid that just showed up a few months ago? That doesn't just happen in other towns."

"Really."

"Another thing." Just then, a well dressed man in a suit passed by, heading for the office of Station Management. "That whirlwind thing that used to be the shape in Grove P-"

Cecil's mug of coffee crashed to the floor and shattered, and he clapped a hand over Carlos's mouth, pulling him into a side hallway. He poked his head around the corner and watched the well dressed man go. "We don't acknowledge or speak of that. The Sheriff's Secret Police doesn't like it," he said, jerking his head at the man.

Carlos's eyes widened and he pushed Cecil's hand off. "Why are there so many things in this town no one is allowed to talk about? It seems detrimental to freedom of speech," he said in a frantic whisper.

"What's freedom of speech?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Seriously?" Carlos asked. "You don't even have freedom of speech here? Isn't that, like, in the Bill of Rights?"

Cecil shook his head. "I've never heard of either of those things before, Carlos. Are you sure this isn't a hallucination induced by working with dangerous chemicals in the labor something like that?"

"Um, yes?"

"Interesting. We should discuss this at some point."

"Cecil?"

"Yes?"

"Does anything even happen to the people who talk about the things they aren't supposed to?"

Cecil shrugged. "Well, now that you mention it, they do have an alarming tendency to disappear and never be seen again, but, other than that, I haven't noticed anything unusual."

2.

So going on a walk? That had kind of become a thing. Cecil would just occasionally turn up at his lab and insist that he come with on random trips around Night Vale. Why? He frankly had no idea, and at this point he was a little afraid to ask.

As they walked along, Carlos noticed a tall, stone wall encircling the block. It was covered with vines and a thick layer of moss. A few feet farther along the wall, a wrought iron gate creaked ominously. 

Cecil was talking animatedly at him, but Carlos’s attention was fixed on the strange door. It was ridiculous, but he felt like the gate in the stone wall was calling him. Carlos, it said, come here. Come to the dog park. You can be happy in the dog park, you know. Carlos shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He thought that it was a testament to how long he’d been living in Night Vale that he didn’t even second guess a wall talking to him.

They stopped for a moment, and Cecil bent down to tie one of his shoes. “So,” the radio host continued, “most of the radio budget actually goes towards the funeral expenses of the many interns who die in the field of local community radio. Which is actually more than one would think, you know?”

“Hm?” Carlos asked, still thinking about what might lie behind the tall stone walls.

Cecil followed his gaze to the walls and Carlos didn’t think he’d ever seen someone’s expression go from cheerful to serious so quickly. Cecil stood up and said, “Nope,” before grabbing him by the arm and forcibly dragging him away from the dog park.

1.

“Big Rico’s?” Carlos asked, opening the laboratory door.

“Big Rico’s,” Cecil agreed.

He nodded. “Just a second. Let me put away some of this stuff.”

“Oh?” Cecil asked, leaning casually on the door frame, trying not to look too interested. “Like what?”

“I’m working on, um, suggestibility powder, to help trauma victims.” Carlos tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and attempted to look modest.

“That’s so neat,” Cecil gushed, still not leaving the door. Carlos felt his cheeks getting warm.

“Thanks,” he muttered, then finished putting away some of the more dangerous chemicals and heading for the door. “Coming?” he asked, and Cecil pushed himself off the door frame and followed. 

There was something off about him today, Carlos thought. He held himself differently, almost stiffly, and his steps were ginger. They walked down the hallway and towards the stairs. Cecil paused for a moment and stared at them before grimacing and starting down, Carlos already a few steps ahead.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” Carlos said, and turned around in time to see the other man pitch forward. Carlos locked his knees, bracing himself, and Cecil crashed into him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and attempted to get off, but not before Carlos saw a lurid burn mark on his lower rib cage.

“What’s that?” he asked pointedly.

“What’s what?”

“That,” Carlos asked, lifting the hem of Cecil’s shirt and pointing at the burn mark.

Mrs. Potts, Carlos’s neighbor, pottered by the stairwell and looked downwards. “I don’t want to know,” she called.

Cecil tore the hem of his shirt away and took a step back. “It’s nothing,” he said, chin jutting stubbornly and arms crossed.

“You’re friends with Old Woman Josie, right? Why don’t you get one of the angels to heal it for you?” 

“Angels don’t exist.”

“What? Sure they do, I saw one just last we-”

Cecil cut him off mid sentence. “You don’t understand, Carlos. Angels don’t exist,” he said, with a strong emphasis on each word.

“Right,” he replied slowly. “You know, Cecil, if there’s something going on you want to tell me about, I’m always ready to listen, okay?”

Cecil nodded and smoothed his shirt, being careful not to make eye contact with him.

“Okay?” Carlos repeated, and he finally nodded. “Good.”

0\. 

When Carlos woke up in City Hall, he wasn’t even shaken. Sure, it wasn’t every night one woke up in the seat of absolute power for a small town, but hey. This was Night Vale. He was starting to expect the unexpected to happen. Which it did. With alarming frequency.

So he supposed the unexpected was actually becoming rather expected That was rather interesting and he’d certainly think about it later, but right now Carlos thought maybe he should find a way out before he got caught trespassing. That could be bad. That could be very bad.

He picked himself up off the cold tile floor, noting that he was still dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and his lab coat. He hadn’t fallen asleep at the lab bench again, had he? Carlos shrugged and started walking down the hall, looking for a door or a window he could climb out.

As he was knocking on the walls, trying to hear if they were hollow or not, a scream shattered the absolute silence. Carlos almost leapt out of his skin. Sure, it wasn’t unusual to hear wails and shrieks at night, but this one was so close, and so loud! What was going on here?

Carlos listened again and shook his head. Well, he might as well follow the sound, as it could lead him to a way out. Or certain death, but hey, better to be optimistic, right?

As he walked, the screams got louder and closer together, so he figured he was going in the right direction.

Finally, Carlos reached a plain looking door painted a dark red, which appeared to be the source of the screaming. It was silent now, and he gripped the handle with one hand, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

He had prepared himself to see any boogeyman, any monster, the stuff of nightmares behind that door. What he hadn’t expected was a clinical white room with a doctor’s table, no windows, and a mechanical rig dominating most of the room. And on the table, currently with a red hot knife protruding from his stomach, was Cecil. He was still conscious, humming softly under his breath, tears welling up in his eyes.

Carlos saw red.

Cecil let out a moan, and Carlos let go of the door, which shut behind him with a click. Cecil’s head jerked up, and his mouth fell open. He seemed for the first time since Carlos had known him to be completely lost for words.

“What are you doing here?” Carlos asked.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!” he hissed.

Carlos gestured at him. “I could ask you the very same question!” He took a deep breath. “What is going on here, and why, for the love of all that is holy, have you got a great whacking knife sticking out of you?”

“Can we discuss this later, when the knife is not sticking out of me?” he asked irritably.

“Um, sure, but I don’t see how that’s going to happen.” Cecil just looked at him. “Oh, no. I am not a doctor. I am so not qualified to remove that thing.”

“Well, I don’t see how else it’s going to happen!” Cecil glared, then winced. “Oh, that’s painful.”

Carlos raised his hands in surrender and walked farther into the room. “Fine. What am I doing here?”

“Take the handle, and you’re going to have to hold me down somehow,” Cecil ordered.

“Okay, why?”

“Just do it, please.”

Carlos rolled his eyes, but did as he was ordered, gripping the handle firmly in his fingers and lifting his knee up to rest in the center of his chest. Cecil gripped the edges of the table and said through gritted teeth, “Pull it out.”

“What?”

“Now!” 

Carlos pulled, and the knife came out with a horrible sucking sound. Cecil’s hips bucked, and he let out a scream through clenched teeth. Carlos threw the knife to the ground. “Why is it hot?” he yelled.

Cecil pushed himself to a seated position and inspected his wound. It was puckered and red, much like the one he’d seen on the stairwell. “Blood loss is so inconvenient,” he remarked in reply.

“And why are you here?”

“Can you not shout?” he asked. “This is re-education.”

“You seem awfully calm about this,” Carlos said. 

 

Cecil looked up. “Well, I broke the law. I’m not exempt, I do have to pay the penalty.”

“You think this is okay,” he clarified, and Cecil nodded. “This is not okay. This is in no way an okay thing.” Cecil canted his head to one side and just looked at him. “Come on,” Carlos told him. “We’re leaving and going to my lab to have a look at you.”

“I don’t know if I can walk,” he said quietly.

“Then I’ll carry you,” Carlos replied, more fiercely than he’d intended. “We’re going and I’ll freaking carry you if I have to.” He slung one of Cecil’s arms over his shoulders and helped him to his feet, supporting him around the waist.

“Ouch,” the radio host said, biting off the word. 

“You ready?” Carlos asked.

Cecil nodded, and the pair walked out, Carlos half carrying Cecil. He began humming again, under his breath.

“You do realize the City Council is going to come after me, right?” he asked, tone light.

“You let me worry about that,” Carlos said. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

He laughed harshly and began giving directions, which lead them out into the parking lot of City Hall. “Take this,” Cecil said, pulling his keys out of one pocket and handing them over.

Carlos walked them over to Cecil’s car and unlocked the door with one hand, then helped Cecil into the passenger side and got into the driver’s seat. “Well?” he asked.

“Drive,” Cecil ordered.

Carlos drove.

“Hop up here,” Carlos told him, clearing a space on one of his lab benches and patting it. Cecil sat on it wordlessly. “Shirt off,” he ordered.

“What-why?” he exclaimed.

He folded his arms. “I need to see if there are any open wounds that need stitching.”

“Fine,” Cecil answered, and unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and stared at Carlos in defiance.

Carlos was at a complete loss. Cecil’s pale chest was peppered with burn scars, and as he walked around the table, he saw his back was as well. He overcame his shock and took a look at the most recent one, poking it with one finger.

Cecil hissed in a breath and for the second time that day, Carlos had to restrain himself from killing something. “I would just like to reiterate that this is in no way an okay thing.”

“Noted,” Cecil replied. “Now, what are we planning on doing about the City Council?”

Carlos started digging through his desk, looking for his first aid kit. “Come on,” he muttered, shoving aside stacks of lab reports he’d never quite gotten around to filling out. Not that he’d forgotten about them. Definitely not. “Here it is,” he announced, holding up the red box. He flipped it open and started looking for the burn salve.

“Carlos,” he repeated. “What about City Council?”

The scientist uncapped the tube and started smearing the cream onto Cecil’s burns. “First of all, how are they going to know where you went? Second, how are they going to know I was even there?” He grinned triumphantly as Cecil winced.

“They have security cameras.”

“Oh,” Carlos frowned. “Shit.”

Cecil laughed. “Yeah. Shit.” Which was when someone or something knocked on the door of the laboratory. Cecil froze in panic, his face going dead white. “Don’t answer that,” he hissed.

Carlos straightened. “Get under the desk. I’ll go and see who it is, all right?” 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied, but hopped off the bench and crawled underneath it.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it under control.”

“No, you don’t,” Cecil’s muffled voice said from under the bench. “But hey, give it a whirl.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Carlos said, smiling, and walked over to the door. He opened it slowly to see the entire City Council standing on the other side. “Good evening,” he said, attempting to keep his tone even.

“Good evening, Carlos,” the City Council said in unison. Okay, that was kind of creepy. “Where is the Voice?” they asked.

“The Voice-oh, you mean Cecil?” Carlos folded his arms. “What do you want him for?”

They hissed at him in unison and then said, “The Voice is needed at City Hall to complete re-education. Where is the Voice?” That was also really unbelievably creepy, he decided.

“Sorry,” he said. “He’s not here, as it’s nearly 2 o’clock in the morning.” They stood in the doorway for a long moment, like a standoff, like one of the Westerns Carlos used to watch as a kid. And Carlos wasn’t budging, because damned if he was just going to let them waltz on in and drag Cecil out.

“You are lying,” the City Council eventually announced.

“No.” 

“You are,” they agreed.

“I’m really not,” Carlos insisted, starting to get nervous. What if they didn’t just leave? How was he going to get rid of them? From out of nowhere, he seemed to hear himself telling them, “Come in, we can look together.”

What? Where had that come from? He stepped aside and the City Council filed inside and began looking around his lab. Okay, seriously, what was going on?

Cecil shot him a panicked look from under the desk, to which he mouthed, “Sorry.” Then he looked back up and one of the City COuncil members was playing with one of his vials of hydrochloric acid.

“Please don’t touch that,” he snapped, and the woman set the vial down. “Thank you,” he said, and casually began working his way over to the bench where he’d set the suggestibility powder, a plan starting to form in his mind.

He’d barely moved a foot when the City Council began chanting in unison at him. “The Voice,” they repeated over and over. Carlos turned around to see that one of the members had pulled Cecil out from under the lab bench. The man shoved him into the center of the room, stumbling.

“Oops,” Cecil said, rubbing one arm. The City Council encircled the pair of them more swiftly than Carlos would have thought possible and began moving in on them slowly.

“Get behind me,” Carlos ordered, and Cecil complied. He held out his arms in an attempt to shield the blond man from the City Council.

“Can’t we discuss this like reasonable people?” Cecil called nervously.

“Nice try, but I don’t think that’s going to do any good.”

“Well, what do you recommend?”

“Um...I’m working on it?”

“That’s what I thought.” Meanwhile, the City Council edged in closer and closer until one of them managed to grab Cecil and get a knife to his throat. Which was rather unexpected.

“Resistance is pointless,” they intoned. “Stop now, or the Voice will be harmed.” The one held the knife closer to Cecil’s throat, who had gone white and completely still.

“What about re-education?” Carlos challenged, inching towards the lab bench as slowly as he could. “Won’t that harm him?”

City Council stared haughtily at him. “Re-education is for the Voice’s own benefit.” One of them snapped their fingers and Cecil’s shirt was back on, covering the burn marks.

“Why don’t you ask him?” All eyes turned to Cecil, who gulped.

“I’m trying to maintain neutrality right now.”

“Seriously?” Carlos said. “Can you work with me a little here?”

Cecil rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine. It’s painful. Happy?”

“Delighted,” he replied, just as his fingers closed around a handful of the powder. “Now, if you’d kindly get out of the way, please?”

Cecil stared at him for what felt like an eternity before nodding, stomping on his captor’s foot, and running into the center of the room. “Thanks,” Carlos said, before blowing the powder into the faces of the City Council. “All right,” he said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Starting now, re-education is no longer a thing. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” they said.

“Good. Also, you’re going to leave here now and not come back, and you’re going to leave both of us alone, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Carlos glanced at Cecil. “Anything else?”

He shrugged. “No, I think you got everything important.”

He looked back at the CIty Council. “All right, then. We’re done with you, now get out.” They filed out of the lab in complete silence, broken only by Cecil shutting the door behind them with a bang.

“What did you even give them?” he asked, his back to Carlos.

“That suggestibility stuff I mentioned earlier,” Carlos responded.

Cecil turned, and he saw something between concern and relief written across his features. “Why on earth would you keep something like that out in the open? It sounds a bit dangerous to me.”

Carlos shrugged and smoothed a strand of hair out of his face. “Not...not necessarily, I mean, a scientist is always prepared and so I predicted that-” he paused and sighed. “Fine, yes, it was slightly careless.”

“But you think it worked?”

“The evidence would suggest that it worked, yes.”

“Good,” Cecil said, clenching his hands. “Good.”

Two days later, Carlos was working in his lab when the radio went to Cecil’s show. “So, listeners,” Cecil said, and Carlos could just picture him leaning into the microphone, tapping his fingers on the table. “You’ll never guess who I saw this weekend.” He paused for a long moment before practically squealing. “Carlos!”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose and smiled bemusedly.

“Anyway, I talked to Carlos at his lab, after something else happened, and I think he really likes me! It was neat. It was really neat.”

Carlos shook his head, sighing, and went back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry. Please do not kill me.


End file.
